


the enemy of my enemy

by Lise



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Angst, Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Spoilers, Fix-It, Gen, Hurt Loki (Marvel), Injury, Loki (Marvel) Lives, Medical Procedures, Not Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Road Trips, Whump, Work In Progress, this is not how Clint was planning on spending his day
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-10
Updated: 2019-05-17
Packaged: 2019-07-10 20:39:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15957095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lise/pseuds/Lise
Summary: While on house arrest, Clint receives an unexpected visitor bringing very bad news.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Zaatar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zaatar/gifts).
  * Translation into 中文 available: [the enemy of my enemy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17588231) by [yggdrasil124](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yggdrasil124/pseuds/yggdrasil124)



> I wrote this for my wonderful beta/girlfriend [Amelia](http://ameliarating.tumblr.com), who deserves far more Clint and Loki content than she gets. Here is some small rectification of that dearth, in the form of something that may or may not turn into something more. We'll see. I'm not saying no to the possibility. 
> 
> I've been tossing around the idea of something like this for a while, since apparently what I do now is write fix-it fics for Loki's death in Infinity War. I think I'm gonna be here for a while. (I mean, other than all the other things I'm doing. But this is a big one.) 
> 
> Warnings here for neck trauma and field medical procedures.

This was not how Clint had seen his morning going. 

He’d seen his morning going, more or less, the same as all his other mornings had recently: doing anything he could to stay busy. He’d fixed the roof, built two chairs and a bench, and repaired the hinge on the cabinet before Laura told him that he was driving _her_ nuts. Nathaniel was a handful, and Lila and Cooper were _loving_ the fact that he was home all the time, but...shit. 

He was pretty sure he was going to lose his mind. The feds had confiscated his bow (and everything else - they’d even taken the pistol Laura kept in a lockbox in their closet). They came by every other day, lurking around the property, making nice with the kids (who, Clint was pleased, seemed wise to it). 

Putting a strain on his and Laura’s relationship. Oh, she was on his side, all the way, but it was wearing on her, and Clint was acutely aware of the unfairness of it. No two ways about it: she was paying for his choices. And so were the kids. 

It was probably a good thing that they’d all taken off for the week, even if it made Clint even more aware of how fucking _bored_ he was. 

Then he saw a flash of light over past the barn.

_Oh, shit,_ was Clint’s _second_ thought. His first, because he was an idiot, was _thank god._

He went for his bow first, remembered it was sitting in the bowels of some government facility somewhere (fuck Ross and the entire high horse he’d rode in on), and scowled. It could be nothing, but Clint doubted it, and he wasn’t a fan of the idea of walking out there unarmed. 

_You could call your fed buddies,_ snarked a voice that Clint shut off hard. He glanced at his ankle bracelet and swore .

_So how stupid are you gonna be,_ he thought, but he was already grabbing a meat tenderizer and heading for the master bedroom. 

One hole in the drywall later, holding the spare handgun, Clint headed out the front door and across the yard. Glad, suddenly, that no one else was here, because if he was walking into a bad situation…

Well, hopefully he wasn’t about to leave his kids without a dad. 

Gauging the distance to where he’d seen the flash of light, Clint realized that it was _right_ at the edge of where his perimeter would reach. He couldn’t see anything yet through the tall grass - not high enough to hide someone standing, but someone crouching, maybe - or lying flat, in wait, for some dumb asshole to come walking along. He might not see them until he was right on top of them, and the second he stepped over the invisible fence line…

“Hey!” Clint yelled, slowing down. “Anyone trying to set up an ambush, do me a favor and get it over with?”

Nothing. Of course, it was possible this wasn’t a _person._ Some kind of...alien whatever. Or military shit. No way of knowing. 

He inched a little closer. Five feet. Four. 

And stopped dead, because there was a body lying facedown in the grass. 

Not just any fucking body, either. 

Yeah, this was not how Clint had seen his morning going. 

* * *

Loki didn’t twitch when Clint shouted in horrified surprise, scrambling back and raising the handgun. He didn’t know what stopped him from pulling the trigger and putting all six rounds in his head. His head spun and his lungs seemed to have stopped working. Every hair on his body was standing on end, instincts screaming at him to run as far as he could in the other direction, fuck the feds, fuck the ankle bracelet, Loki was here and he needed to be somewhere, anywhere else. 

But Loki was also sprawled gracelessly, unmoving, and facedown on the ground, and Clint had seen enough dead bodies in his day to know what one looked like. 

“Fuck,” Clint said out loud, and heard his voice tremble. “Fucking _hell._ ” He kept his gun trained on Loki and inched forward, carefully. “Hey,” he said loudly. “Hey, motherfucker, if you’re faking it--”

Nothing. Clint swallowed, a different flavor of unease slipping in next to the panic. He reached out a foot and prodded Loki’s shoulder, sucking in a breath. This didn’t feel right. Didn’t feel like _Loki._

Still nothing. Not even a twitch. Finally, Clint crouched down, still keeping the gun on him as he grabbed Loki’s shoulder to flip him over. His body moved limply and fell with a heavy thud.

Clint reared back hard enough that he fell on his ass, gun dropping out of his hand. Loki’s face was an ashy shade of unnatural blue. His head lolled to the side at an angle that was just - _wrong,_ clear marks of manual strangulation written all over his throat. His eyes were closed, features slack. 

Loki was supposed to have been dead for four years. This wasn’t _four years dead._ This was - this was fucking _recent,_ and Clint stared with mute horror because imagining the monster of his nightmares dead was one thing but actually seeing it--

Manual strangulation and a broken neck, a part of Clint’s brain noted analytically. Not an easy way to kill someone. Especially not someone as durable as Loki. Personal, too. Someone had really hated him. Or else was making a point. 

“Fuck fuck fuck _fuck,_ ” Clint said, pressing the back of his hand to his mouth. He needed to get away from the body, now. And...and _what?_ Who the fuck was he supposed to call? 

Clint found himself moving forward again, trying not to look too closely at Loki’s face. Focusing on - on what? Why here, why was Loki’s body _here,_ was this a warning or a, a fucked up _present_ or--

He saw something, out of the corner of his eye, and turned fast, holding his breath. Watching. Waiting. Ten seconds. Twenty.

He’d always had sharp eyes, so he saw it. The slight, barely there flutter of movement just under Loki’s jaw, masked by the bruises. Clint lurched forward, reached out with a shaking hand to put his fingers against his cold skin. Nothing, he couldn’t feel anything, but for some reason Clint waited anyway. 

_There._ Just the tiniest little motion against his fingers. It could barely even be called a pulse. 

“Holy _shit,_ ” Clint said. “You’re _alive._ ”

* * *

Dealing with a dead Loki was one thing. Dealing with a _living_ one - was a hell of a lot more complicated. 

There was a second - five seconds - where Clint thought _if you do nothing he’s probably going to die anyway. He’s barely hanging on as is. Wait five minutes and it’ll be over._

Then he was sprinting back to the house. 

He grabbed a few things ( _wouldn’t it be great if you had a neck brace right now, how the fuck are you going to move him_ ) and ran back, half expecting Loki to have died in the interim. He sure looked like it, but Clint put his fingers back on Loki’s neck and waited, counting seconds between beats. Twenty seconds. Like he’d gone into fucking hibernation or something.

Maybe he had. Maybe he could do that. Clint had no idea.

_Okay. Okay, first things first, make sure he can breathe._ Clint had to hold a hand almost to Loki’s lips to feel any air at all, and glancing at the ugly bruising on his neck - his trachea had probably been crushed. 

_Okay,_ he thought. _Okay. You got this._ He got the steak knife he’d brought from the house and the straw from Nathaniel’s sippy cup, taking a deep breath. Then stopped. A steak knife might not even _work_ on Loki’s skin. He stopped, set it aside, and searched Loki’s clothes instead until he found a small knife. Felt carefully down Loki’s throat, _right under the ridge, half inch wide, half inch deep, take it easy--_

He eased the straw into the narrow incision, blew into it a couple times, and sat back, shaking. After what felt like too long, he heard air hiss out and whistle back in. Not...great. But better. If he could just do enough triage to keep Loki alive until his healing kicked back in…

Then what? What was he going to do _then?_

Clint pushed that aside and folded the towel he’d brought out into a narrow roll and easing it carefully around the back of Loki’s neck, trying to move him as little as possible. Rope to keep it in place. It was - shit, it wasn’t great but it was the best he could do as far as a neck brace. Broken arm, too, he noticed belatedly, but as far as things went that wasn’t something he was going to worry about right now. 

Right now...right now he needed to get Loki back to his house.

And _there_ was a sentence he hadn’t expected to ever think. 

Clint rolled his shoulders back and looked down at Loki, towel wrapped around his neck, straw sticking out of his throat, and felt the corner of his eye twitch. It was a damn good thing that no one else was here right now. Just him. And Loki. 

And the feds coming around tomorrow. 

_Fuck._

* * *

Clint rigged an awkward sort of travois to get Loki back to the house without making everything worse, though he had no idea how well it was working. Loki was still doing his best impression of a corpse, his skin that ashy blue color. Clint didn’t think it was hypoxia anymore, but it didn’t look _good._

He set Loki down, breathing hard, in the middle of the living room floor. There, in his ridiculous leather get up - a different one than he’d been wearing last time Clint had seen him, and gone through the same wringer the rest of Loki had - he looked even more out of place. Clint stared down at him, suddenly feeling as though he was watching from outside himself. 

_What the hell are you going to do, Barton,_ he thought, rubbing the heels of his hands against his eyes, and wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all. 

Then he heard a whistling sort of sigh and jerked his head up to see Loki’s eyelids fluttering. He lurched forward, then wondered if he should lurch _back_ instead because if Loki came around and freaked out - Clint had no idea what he might still be capable of, even like this. 

But he wasn’t exactly jumping to his feet. The fingers of his right arm twitched and he started to move it only to stop, fast, with a thin, hoarse cry of pain. Clint’s stomach twisted and before he could think about it he was crouching down next to Loki. 

“Hey,” he said, and his voice sounded far gentler than he’d expected. “It’s, uh. You’re okay.” The instant the words were out Clint wanted to ask. _That’s an obvious lie._

Loki’s breathing wheezed awfully, rattling in his chest. Clint eyeballed his pulse - not feeling like it was a particularly good idea to touch him right now - and it looked like it had picked up to something - still slow, but closer to normal. His head twitched like he was trying to turn it.

“Don’t,” Clint started to say, but Loki had already gone still, including his breathing. Clint swallowed hard. “Loki. You need to...stay still, all right? You’re pretty fucked up.” _What are you doing,_ a voice in his head was screaming. _What the fuck are you doing, do you know who this is, what are you, still his brainwashed stooge--_

He shoved that out of the way. Fact was - fact was that he needed to know what had happened, because something strong and nasty enough to do _this..._ not to mention that Loki was supposed to be dead, and Clint really wanted to know what that was about. He needed intel. And that meant he needed Loki well enough - and willing enough - to give it.

Didn’t have anything to do with the weird ache in his stomach at seeing Loki like this. And he could say it would feel the same with _anyone,_ but he’d looked at a lot of dead bodies - dropped a lot of them, too - and not felt that knot twisting his guts.

Loki’s eyes opened, barely, and Clint hissed at the bright red he took at first for burst blood vessels and only belatedly realized...wasn’t. Absently, he belatedly catalogued the ridges on Loki’s skin, thought _adopted,_ and just as quickly set it aside. Not relevant. His eyes fixed slowly on Clint and his mouth opened, but all that came out was another wheezing exhale. 

“Like I said,” Clint said, trying to keep his voice steady. “You’re pretty fucked up.” The wheezing got faster, Loki’s eyes turning a little wild, and Clint recognized the signs of oncoming panic. Seen it before, and it was almost too easy to do the same thing he’d done then. “Breathe,” he said. “Focus on my voice-”

Loki made a choking sound, his left hand groping up and ripping the straw out of his neck before Clint could stop him. His body spasmed and Clint realized belatedly what was happening and turned him on his side so Loki didn’t asphyxiate on his own vomit. He went limp, and for a long moment Clint thought he’d passed out again, but then he pressed a shaking hand to his throat and flinched. His fingers flickered green, briefly, and Clint had to fight not to shy back.

His hand fell away. 

“Am I--” Loki sounded like he was trying to speak with his throat full of gravel. He coughed, and then flinched again. “Am I dead?” 

Clint swallowed hard. “Would you believe me if I said no?”

“I didn’t think it would hurt this much after,” Loki said. Every word was forced out like he was about to choke on them. 

“Yeah, well,” Clint said, hating how his voice wobbled, “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again, so I guess we’re both surprised.” 

Loki blinked at him. “They’re dead,” he said after a moment, barely audible. “They’re all dead.” He started shaking harder, and Clint squeezed his eyes closed and opened them. 

“Who,” he said, because this was what he needed to know, wasn’t it? “Who’s dead? What happened?”

“Everyone who was left,” Loki said. “There wasn’t time - Thor…”

Clint’s stomach dropped. “What did you do to Thor,” he said roughly.

“Not me.” Loki’s eyes closed. “My fault. But not me. I thought maybe...if I gave him - a little time--”

His strained breathing hitched, and then hitched again, and Clint realized with a dull kind of horror that Loki was _crying._

“Who--” He cleared his throat and tried again. “Who did this?” 

“Thanos,” Loki whispered. His throat worked and he made a pained sound that broke off halfway through. Clint shook his head.

“That doesn’t mean anything to me,” he said hoarsely. 

“It will,” Loki said. He let out a rasping sort of sob. “I should have died,” he said. “I should have died.”

This, Clint thought miserably, even as he got up to find a blanket to drape over Loki. Like that would help. Like he was supposed to be helping at all, like this wasn’t the man he’d had nightmares about for a long, long, time even after he’d gone. 

_What the hell do you think you’re doing?_

And if that wasn’t just the question. 

* * *

Clint couldn’t tell if Loki was legitimately unconscious or playing dead - he hadn’t moved or said anything for a while, just laid there. His skin was starting to return to what looked like a healthier shade of blue, and the incision Clint had made was gone, but there was still a whistle to his breathing and Clint didn’t think the broken neck was all better either.

Broken _neck._ Shit. That was above his paygrade. Of course, every goddamn thing about this situation was above his paygrade.

He was going to have a bunch of government assholes here, _tomorrow,_ and somehow he didn’t think they’d accept “I don’t know, he just dropped in here” as a decent reason for harboring an alien enemy of the state. So he’d be screwed, and they’d try to drag Loki off which would either end in blood (theirs) or…

Shit. Clint didn’t want to know what Ross would do. Shouldn’t matter, maybe, but since apparently he was an idiot, it did. Not to mention he still had no idea who Thanos was, or what Loki knew about him, or what he’d meant by _it will._ If Thor was really dead--

Thor might actually be dead. 

Not for the first time, Clint wished he knew how to get in touch with Nat, or Steve, or Wanda, or _someone._ He hadn’t tried, knew he _shouldn’t_ try - it’d just be putting them in danger - but... _I could really use some help on this one, you guys._

_Well, you don’t have it. You’re on your own, buddy._

Loki stirred, finally, either waking up or coming out of his stupor. “Are you going to fix up on your own,” Clint asked, “or should I be googling emergency first aid for a broken neck?” 

Loki winced when he swallowed, quiet for a long moment, and Clint realized belatedly that maybe he _shouldn’t_ be talking quite so casually about Loki’s very recent very near death experience. “I should...mend,” Loki said, though he didn’t sound completely sure. “Provided that…” He paused, and there was something...bizarre, almost _absurd,_ about Loki, _Loki,_ lying there on his side on the floor, makeshift towel-brace around his neck, huddled under a blanket and looking positively pathetic. 

“Provided that?” Clint prompted. 

“What are you going to do,” Loki asked, which wasn’t an answer. He sounded resigned, like whatever Clint said he’d be fine with it. Clint’s skin was back to crawling.

“No fucking clue,” Clint said. “Any ideas?” 

“No.” The fingers on Loki’s right hand twitched and he let out a very quiet hiss. Right. Broken. That...that at least he could deal with.

He stood up and Loki’s eyes followed him, but otherwise he didn’t react. There was an old sling in one of the closets that Clint pulled out and tossed at Loki. He stared blankly at it. “For your arm,” Clint said by way of explanation. “Unless it needs setting, in which case...that’s another situation.” 

“Oh,” Loki said after a moment, not moving.

“I thought you had, like. Super healing.” Clint knew he was talking because he was uncomfortable. That didn’t mean he could _stop._ “When the Hulk got to you you got up okay.” 

“Some things are easier to heal than others,” Loki said. Clint supposed that made sense. Hit a certain level of damage and human bodies started functioning less on “fixing” and more on “surviving.” And he was definitely thinking about the unimportant shit so he didn’t start screaming about...everything else. 

Should he be offering painkillers? Anti-inflammatories? Who the fuck knew what might be poisonous, and it wasn’t like Loki was asking. 

_Well, yeah. Loki’s a traumatized, half-dead wreck barely checked into this reality._ Clint shoved that out of his head too and stood up to go get a cup of water, figuring _that,_ at least, probably couldn’t go wrong. 

Of course, then he came back to see Loki trying to get up. He’d made it to sitting, more or less, though his color was _way_ off again.

“Hey,” Clint barked, a little sharper than he meant to. “What do you think you’re doing?” 

“I need to get back to - I need to find--” Loki’s voice shook as much as he was. Clint took a step toward him and Loki started to twist his head toward him only to cut off with a high-pitched sound of agony, his body buckling so he fell back against the couch. His chest heaved and Clint stayed frozen where he was, torn between the urge to go _help_ and the ugly, vicious, part of him that said _he deserves this._

He wished Nat was here. 

Clint swore and set the glass down on the end-table, crouching down again. “You’re not going anywhere,” he said. “Not like this. Besides - where would you even be _going?_ ” 

Loki went limp, still shaking. Clint hadn’t said it to be an asshole, but by the way his expression sort of crumpled, Loki heard it that way. Which...shit. _Thor_ would fit as an end to either of those sentences. 

The last time Clint had seen Loki it’d seemed like he’d kill Thor and laugh about it. Something seemed to have changed. A lot of things. 

_Stay focused._

Clint pulled one of the cushions off the back of the couch and moved it so that it would prop up the back of Loki’s head. The makeshift brace seemed to be doing good _enough,_ but Clint didn’t want to take chances. 

_Do you even remember me,_ a part of Clint wanted to ask. _Do you remember who I am, what you did to me, do you care,_ but he didn’t know if he could deal with hearing the answer. Priorities. 

Loki had raised his hands up and was staring at them like he’d never seen them before, a strange expression on his face. “Right,” Clint said. “Yeah, the blue. Is that new?” 

A choking sound that almost made Clint panic, and a little jerk like someone had slapped him. “No,” Loki said. “Not new.” He dropped his hands back down. Clint chewed the inside of his cheek and stood up again, walking a few steps away.

“Okay,” he said. “Okay. I need to ask you a couple questions.” 

“Ask away.” Even with that fingernail-rasp, Loki’s voice sounded dull. Lifeless. It made Clint’s skin crawl, made him feel like he ought to be _doing_ something. _Fix it fix it fix it,_ like a buzz in the back of his skull, and Clint should’ve just shot him in the head and gotten it over with.

“What happened?” 

Loki was quiet for long enough that Clint almost repeated the question. “Asgard was destroyed,” he said finally. “Thor was leading the people who were left back to...back here. Thanos found us. We managed to evacuate...some. Not enough. The rest - slaughtered. Heimdall sent the Hulk away - somewhere--”

“Wait,” Clint said, stiffening. “The Hulk? As in Bruce _Banner_ the Hulk? What was he doing on Asgard?” 

Loki’s eyes rolled toward him but he seemed to be struggling to answer, so Clint just shook his head. “Never mind.” He didn’t know who Heimdall was, either, but that was easier to ignore. 

“Thanos killed Heimdall,” Loki said. “He would have killed Thor, I thought maybe, maybe there was a possibility that if I--” He stopped, the shaking intensifying again. 

“I get the picture,” Clint said, even though he didn’t, really. He didn’t have enough pieces. But he didn’t think pushing closer to that one was going to go anywhere. “So Thanos, he, uh...Thor…”

_Did you see him die,_ he wanted to ask, but that was probably a bad question. And at least right now wasn’t...going to help anyone. 

“Never mind,” he said. “This Thanos. Who’s he?” 

Loki’s eyes closed and his already unsteady breathing stuttered. “He sent me here,” Loki said. “For the Tesseract. The Tesseract for Midgard, that was the exchange, I was so _stupid--_ ” He broke off, coughing. Clint realized he was clenching his fists hard enough to hurt and made them relax. 

_Trying to pin the blame on someone else, you slippery little weasel,_ Clint thought viciously, but that wasn’t it, was it, and he _remembered -_ bits and pieces in the times he didn’t _like_ remembering. Loki vanishing somewhere on his own and coming back pale and tense, lines of pain around his eyes that nobody else seemed to notice. The way Loki’d looked in that underground facility, like he’d crawled out of hell. 

“So...so what does he want? The Tesseract?”

“No,” Loki said, his voice raw. “Or. Yes. But not just...six Infinity Stones. He has two, now. There are four others.”

Infinity Stones. Had he heard that phrase before?

Shit, _yes._ Thor saying _I've had a vision. A whirlpool that sucks in all hope of life and at its center is that._ The scepter. The Mind Stone. Vision.

Fuck, _Wanda._

“I’m guessing if he gets all of them that’s bad,” he said, not really a question. 

“Yes,” Loki said. “It is.” 

“How bad are we talking,” Clint said, mostly to fill time, trying to _think._ This shouldn’t be him. This shouldn’t be _on_ him, he was the marksman on house arrest, not fucking - well, not _Thor._ A voice that sounded too much like Barney’s said _you’re in over your head._

_Now you tell me,_ Clint thought sarcastically.

“The end,” Loki said. For a second Clint thought he was going to vomit again, but he didn’t. Clint stared at him.

“The fuck does that mean,” he said harshly. “The fuck does _that_ even-” He cut himself off. 

“Half of all life,” Loki said, sounding numb. “Gone.”

Clint rocked back on his heels. “You’re exaggerating,” he said, hopefully. Loki said nothing. “Why? _Why--_ ” No, that didn’t matter right now either. 

“He will - he will be coming here,” Loki said. His tongue slipped out, just wetting his lower lip. “Probably before long. He has the Tesseract - the Space Stone - now.” He let out a broken, awful noise that Clint realized belatedly was a laugh. “Because I gave it to him. I thought I was saving Thor--”

The part of Clint that wasn’t ringing like a fire alarm thought _you fucked that one up, didn’t you,_ but he knew better than to say it. He didn’t even really want to. He just felt heavy, and tired, and he wanted to call Laura. 

They were tapping his calls. He wouldn’t be able to say anything important. 

“Call your friends,” Loki said. “Tell them to run. You should run. There’s no point in fighting.” 

“Giving up’s not my style,” Clint said harshly. “Wouldn’t have thought it was yours, either.” 

Loki didn’t argue and Clint felt a spike of anger and frustration, because he needed something, something to push against so he didn’t feel like he was flailing around like a kid in the deep end of the pool. A moment later he just felt like shit for lashing out at someone who - for once - wouldn’t hit back. 

He walked away, over to the kitchen, and leaned his hands on the table, then straightened up and went back, picking up the sling off the floor. 

“Here,” he said. “Let me help you put this on.”

Loki opened his freaky red eyes and looked at Clint. He held up the sling, and Loki twitched one shoulder.

“There’s no point,” he said. The back of Clint’s neck prickled. He’d seen people get like this. Get hit enough, hard enough, and you stop getting up. It wasn’t just Loki’s neck that’d snapped. 

“Humor me,” Clint said roughly. Loki didn’t nod, but he didn’t fight Clint on getting the sling on, either, just watched him, and it was making Clint twitchy. He ignored it as much as he could, trying to think. _So how come you never said anything about this before,_ Clint thought, but he didn’t think now was the time for that question, either. Here they were, and that was the hand Clint was going to have to play with. 

And there was only one play he could make. 

“I’ll be right back,” he said, shoving himself to his feet and heading for the upstairs.

He changed clothes, pulled a bag out of the closet, and packed light and fast. Slinging it over his shoulder, he descended the stairs to the kitchen and turned on the light. 

_You’re doing this,_ Clint thought, putting his foot up on one of the kitchen chairs. _You’re really doing this. How stupid are you?_

Pretty fucking stupid, apparently. 

Clint got the anklet off without setting off any alerts. How long he had - depended on how closely he was being monitored, but it probably wasn’t long. By the time they figured out he was gone, he needed to be in the wind but good. 

“What are you doing,” Loki asked. His voice was still hoarse, bruise circles around his eyes. 

“We’re getting out of here,” Clint said shortly. “You said some big nasty is on the way fixing to kill a whole lot of people. Stopping that is kind of in the job description. And you know more than anyone else on this planet about him, so I guess you’re coming with me.”

Loki stared at him like Clint was talking gibberish. Clint gritted his teeth. 

“I’m not leaving you here,” he said. “So come on. We’re wasting time.”

Loki stood on his own, but Clint had to catch him to keep him from falling over. He bundled him into the front seat where he slumped back, breathing hard, and Clint jogged around to climb in on the other side, throwing the car into reverse. 

_Last chance to turn around. Put the anklet back on. Go to the proper authorities, turn Loki over, hope they don’t throw you back in jail and do nothing about the actual threat._

Clint swung the car around and jammed down the accelerator. It occurred to him, as he drove for the road with Loki sitting next to him, that this was a lot like another drive six years ago. 

_It’s different,_ Clint told himself. _I’m different._

( _Or you just think you are._ )

“Where are we going?” Loki asked.

“To get help,” Clint said. “We can’t fight this on our own.”

“You can’t fight this at all,” Loki said. Clint gripped the steering wheel tightly.

“Aren’t you a ray of sunshine,” he said and took a deep breath. “We beat you, didn’t we? We can handle this asshole. Just you fucking watch.”

_That’s it, Barton. Make it sound like you believe your own bullshit. Maybe then you actually will._

So maybe they were screwed. At least he was going to do like he always had, and go down swinging.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, how you doing, just another fic that wasn't supposed to continue and is anyway! So...yeah, this is officially something multichapter now. Don't expect fast updates or anything (I mean, when does anyone ever, from me), but...it's happening! Because these two idiots are just...too much fun to stay away from. I really did miss writing them across each other, it's such a good goddamn mess of a time.
> 
> Thanks to everyone who enabled this into happening, and especially to [Amelia](http://ameliarating.tumblr.com), who is a gift and the best beta a girl could have. If for some reason you want more of me, I'm on [Tumblr](http://veliseraptor.tumblr.com).

For the first ten miles, Loki didn’t speak at all.

Of course, Clint wasn’t speaking much either, other than the vigorous swearing he was doing in his head, the screaming of _what are you doing, what the fuck do you think you’re doing,_ and the certainty that any second now he was going to be surrounded by a convoy of black cars that would bury him deep down somewhere, this time for good. If he was lucky. And Clint wasn’t, as a rule, very lucky.

Witness the fact of the asshole sitting silently next to him, hands loose in his lap and staring straight ahead, unnervingly still. 

Midway through the eleventh mile Clint pulled into a Walmart parking lot. He expected Loki to say something when he got out of the car, but he didn’t - Clint almost threw something at him to see if he would flinch, then made a disgusted noise and slammed the car door. He withdrew as much cash as he could from the ATM and picked up a neck brace, a prepaid phone, and a few other basic supplies before heading back to the car.

Still no sign of the feds closing in. It was a long ways from here to anywhere safe, though. Just him and Loki.

Great.

He got back into the car and dropped the brace onto Loki’s lap. “Put that on,” he said. Loki looked slowly down at it, and then twisted to look at Clint. 

“What are you doing,” he said. _He speaks,_ Clint wanted to say, but he didn’t actually want Loki to shut up again. 

“I told you already,” Clint said. He jerked his chin at the brace. “Do you need me to open the box?” 

“What are you doing with _me,_ ” Loki said. His eyes were still dull, like he didn’t really care about the answer to the question. 

“Good fucking question,” Clint muttered under his breath. Loki didn’t acknowledge it, or move to do anything with the brace. Clint took it with a growl and ripped it open, pulling it out of the packaging. “Do you need help or do you think you can figure this out,” he said harshly. Loki flinched and Clint just felt like shit again, which pissed him _right_ off, and Jesus _fuck_ Loki wasn’t even _doing_ anything and he was still fucking with Clint’s head. 

Loki’s hands lifted a little toward his neck and then flinched away before he even got close, and - okay. Okay, yeah, so maybe two hours ago Loki’d had his fucking neck snapped and his throat crushed and he hadn’t had so much as a couple of Advil, so maybe telling him “here, take off the thing keeping your spine more or less aligned” wasn’t actually such a little thing to ask. 

He rubbed his hand down his face. “Okay,” he said. “Okay, fine, let me help.” 

Loki shied away from him, eyes flashing with - fucking _terror,_ and that hit Clint like a punch in the stomach, because what did _Loki_ have to be scared of. ( _You, apparently._ ) 

“Don’t look at me like that,” Clint snapped. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Loki just stared at him, breathing a little too fast and loudly. Clint held up his hands, palms out, and tried to moderate his tone. “Hey,” he said. “It’s just me. Barton. You need something a little bit better than a towel and some twine while your neck’s healing. That,” he pointed at the brace, “will help.” 

More staring. Clint waited, though he felt time ticking away and they should be moving, they should be driving as fast as they could, he was pretty sure he’d found a camera blind spot but he could be wrong, hadn’t had time to case the lot properly. 

Finally, Loki said, barely audible, “fine.” Clint almost slumped with relief that he didn’t want to feel.

“Okay,” Clint said. “Okay, good. I don’t have a backboard, so I’m going to say...lean the seat back and I’ll try to make this quick.” 

* * *

It wasn’t as bad as it could have been. Loki let out a little pained hiccup when Clint accidentally jostled his head, but otherwise didn’t make a sound; Clint wasn’t sure which was worse. The bruising wasn’t as bad as it had been, though still ugly. He could see Loki clinging to the edge of panicking by his fingernails, but he didn’t quite slip over - though when his hands released from their fists Clint caught blood on his nails. 

He waited until Loki was sitting up again, then threw the car into gear and peeled out of the parking lot. Loki looked sort of ridiculous wearing a sling and a neck brace over his filthy, battered armor. 

Clint was going to have to find him some new clothes. And figure out how to get him cleaned up. Somehow. 

In five miles he’d stop again and call Laura. Hopefully before the Feds did.

(Funny to think about them like that, Clint supposed. He’d been one of what most people would probably call _the Feds_ for a while there, though he’d never really felt like one.) 

“Okay,” Clint said, after another half mile of silence. “Tell me more about what we’re up against. So far I’ve got: Thanos, big and bad, wants to wipe out half of the universe using these Infinity Stone things. How am I doing?” 

Loki twitched. “That is what’s important.” 

“Why don’t you let me decide what’s important and what isn’t?” 

Loki swayed slightly. “He is from the planet Titan,” he said, voice dull. “The last one living, as far as I know. I don’t know how old he is. Old. He has used various armies over the years, including the Chitauri, but his most formidable warriors are his lieutenants - the Black Order - and his two daughters.” 

“He’s got _kids?_ ” Clint said, though he supposed he shouldn’t really be surprised. Plenty of absolute shitheads reproduced. 

“More or less,” Loki said. “Mostly I think they are his weapons. They have both been - altered. One more extensively than the other.” 

_Altered._ Clint didn’t know what that meant, but it probably wasn’t important right now. At least Loki was talking, and there was some decent information in there. “I guess you met these people? The daughters and the - uh, Black Order?” What a fucking name that was. 

Loki rocked a little, forward and then back, and okay, that probably hadn’t been a great question. “Yes,” he said after a moment. “You could say that.” 

Well, Clint was filling in some pieces of a shitty, shitty, picture. “Yeah,” he said. “Okay. And how many of them are there in this elite squad?” 

“Four,” Loki said. “They are-” He made a little coughing sound, body twisting away. “Very good at what they do.” 

_And what’s that,_ Clint wanted to ask - needed to ask, needed to know so he could size up his opponents. But he didn’t think he’d get anywhere with that other than sending Loki off over the edge again, which would be _real_ helpful. 

“What about weaknesses,” he asked. “Think an arrow to the eye will take him down?” 

Loki started to turn his head, then let out a choked little noise that sort of hurt hearing. Clint kind of wished he’d just go ahead and scream. “Careful,” he said sharply. “You know that brace is there for a reason, right?” 

Loki licked his lips. “Hard to forget,” he said hoarsely, and yeah, Clint guessed it would be. He’d never broken his neck - thank God - but he’d broken his collarbone, and that had fucking _sucked._ And that was with painkillers. “Weaknesses - I don’t know. He was always powerful. Now, with two Infinity Stones…” 

Loki started shivering. Fucking hell. “Hey,” Clint said again, snapping his fingers. “Focus. The more we know the better prepared we’ll be to fight this asshole.” _Powerful._ Yeah, powerful enough to break Loki’s neck with his bare hand and go toe to toe with the Hulk. _We’re so screwed._

No. You couldn’t fight strong, you fought smart. Or dirty. Or both. 

“I don’t know,” Loki said again, rocking slightly against the seat belt. “I don’t...I can’t, I’m sorry-” 

Oh, _fuck,_ that sounded wrong. Clint flinched. “Don’t apologize,” he snapped. “Just - _shit._ Okay. We’ll get back to that. Right? Not like he’s here right now.”

“He will be soon,” Loki said, his voice hoarse. “Or the Order will be. There are - you have things that he wants.” 

Right. Infinity Stones. Vision. Wait. “What do you know about what we have?” 

“Thor–” Loki made a noise, then, like a sob and a gag at the same time. “Thor said. The Mind Stone was here. There’s - another one too. With a...with a man in New York. I don’t know if he...knows what it is.” 

“ _A man in New York._ There’s kind of a lot of those.” It was unnecessarily snide and Clint knew it, but he needed to do _something_ with all the adrenaline pumping through him, and he half hoped to provoke some kind of response from Loki. All he got was a little twitch of his hunched shoulders. 

“The sorcerer,” Loki said, which - there was a sorcerer in New York? News to Clint. 

“Well,” he muttered. “That’s good to know.” He shifted his hands on the steering wheel and glanced at Loki, feeling like he should probably say something, and not sure what he was supposed to say. There was that urge to _comfort_ him, make him _feel_ better, but that mostly just freaked Clint the fuck out. 

“Do you need something to drink?” Clint asked. 

“No.” 

“What about food?” 

“No. Thank you.” 

Those two words, like _I’m sorry,_ set off clanging alarm bells in Clint’s head that screamed _that’s wrong, that’s wrong._ He shrugged one shoulder. 

“Don’t thank me,” he said harshly. “When I pull over to call Laura I’ll get some waters and, I don’t know, yogurt or something. You’re going to need to eat if you want to heal.” 

Loki made a sort of rasping non-laugh. “Who said I want to heal,” he said.

Clint almost slammed on the brakes, those words shivering through him like he’d been electrocuted. “Fuck that,” he said harshly, when he recovered. “You don’t get to bail now.” 

“Is that up to you?”

“Yeah, it is,” Clint said. “You fucking _owe_ me, asshole.”

“That is an interesting perspective on what lies between us.” 

So that answered the question about if Loki remembered who Clint was. Anger flared up in Clint’s chest again and he shoved it down because there was nothing he could actually _do_ with it, at least not right now. “It’s the perspective that matters. You’re part of this mess. You’re sticking around to help solve it. Got it?” 

Loki said nothing. 

“I’m going to take that for agreement,” Clint said savagely. “Close your eyes and try to sleep. We’re going to be driving for a while. I’ll wake you up when it’s time to eat.” 

Loki’s eyes didn’t close. He just stared straight ahead, little shakes still periodically going through him. Clint clenched his jaw and tried to ignore it, and him.

* * *

Clint knew security cameras would catch him at the gas station, but there was no way of helping that. The tank had only been about a quarter full when he’d peeled out, and better to stop sooner rather than later, while they still had a lead. He was just going to have to keep moving fast. Ditch the car soon, too, swap it out for something that wasn’t registered under his name. Used to be he’d tease Nat for being overly paranoid about the need for contingency plans and escape routes and backups. He’d have to eat crow next time he saw her. 

If she didn’t knock him out cold the second she saw him with Loki. 

“Sit tight,” he told Loki, and found a blind spot, checking the cameras carefully before dialing Laura’s number.

She picked up on the third ring. “Hello?” 

“Laura,” Clint said. “It’s me. I can’t talk long. Has anyone called you?” 

“Clint? What’s this number?” The shock in her voice gave way quickly to worry. “What happened? No, no one’s called me–” 

“Something’s, uh - come up,” he said, and then grimaced and said, “no, sorry. It’s just - kind of hard to explain.”

“Clint,” Laura said, a warning in her voice. He blew out a loud breath. 

“I’m not on the farm,” he said. Silence. “So, uh...you’re probably going to be getting a call in a while asking if you’ve heard from me. Tell them the truth. I don’t...I don’t want you or the kids in trouble.”

“What the _fuck_ are you doing,” Laura said, Laura who never swore, and Clint cringed. 

“There’s something bad on the way,” he said. “ _Really_ bad.”

“What does that mean?” Her voice was rising dangerously. Clint swallowed. If he didn’t tell her then she wouldn’t have anything to deny. But...he’d always tried to be truthful with her, as much as he could.

“Loki turned up in our field three-quarters dead after an attack by some monster named Thanos who is apparently trying to collect a bunch of magic stones to wipe out half the life in the universe,” Clint said. 

“Oh,” Laura said. She sounded faint. Clint hoped she was sitting down.

“I can’t stay on the bench,” he said. “Not for something like this.” 

“You said... _Loki_ turned up in our field?” 

“Yeah,” Clint said, and then let out a slightly hysterical sounding laugh. “He’s sitting in the car right now.”

Several seconds ticked by. Clint wondered if Laura had turned off the microphone so he wouldn’t hear her scream, but then he heard her take a deep breath and say “are you out of your _mind?_ ”

“Maybe,” Clint said. “I don’t know. But Laura...I don’t think he’s lying about this Thanos thing. And that means…”

“You can’t stay out of it.” She sounded tired. But not like she was going to argue. She understood. She hated it, but she understood. “But Clint...you’re alone with him. Is that...” 

“Safe?” Clint paused. “I know this is going to sound weird, but other than the fact that I feel kind of like I’m going crazy...I don’t think he’s going to attack me, or anything. And right now he’s in a neck brace and a sling and barely coherent, so…”

“God,” Laura said. “Clint…”

“I know,” he said. “ _Trust_ me, I know.” He took a deep breath. “I have to go. If they haven’t realized I’m gone yet, they will soon, and I need to put some distance between me and them before then. I don’t know when I’ll be able to call again.” 

“Be careful,” Laura said.

“You too.” Clint swallowed hard. “And...get to a safe place. I don’t know what the next week is going to look like, but I don’t think it’s going to be pretty.” 

When he got off the phone, he smashed it with his heel and threw out the pieces, then headed back to the car. Loki hadn’t moved. If it weren’t for the fact that Clint could see his chest moving - barely - he would’ve thought he’d up and died while Clint was gone. 

He threw the water bottles in the back after ripping out two from the case and tossed the bottle of orange juice on Loki’s lap as he climbed in and started the engine. “Drink that,” he said. “They didn’t have anything that’d be easy on your throat, so we’ll start with juice. At least it’s got some sugar in it.” Nothing, and Clint made a frustrated noise. “Come _on._ I know this sucks, but work with me a _little_ here.”

He hated, _really_ hated, that fucking _wheedling_ note in his voice. _Fuck_ Loki for doing this to him.

Loki opened his eyes. “It hurts to swallow,” he said mechanically. “Do you know what it feels like? Not just having your neck bruised, but crushed. Cartilage crunching as it gives way. Every time I swallow it is a reminder, and my throat closes, and that is a reminder too.”

Clint almost flinched, catching himself just in time. That was altogether too vivid and Clint didn’t particularly want to think about it. So he wouldn’t. He was _really_ fucking good at compartmentalizing. 

“You still need to get something in your system,” he said, ruthless. “Drink. It.”

Loki moved, finally, unscrewing the cap with hands that were shaking bad enough that Clint was worried he’d spill all over the inside of the car. He watched out of the corner of his eye as Loki took one small sip and then another.

“You don’t happen to know any of the chemicals your people would use for painkillers, do you,” Clint asked, just in case. 

“Not in terminology you could understand.”

“Yeah,” Clint said. “I kind of figured that was the answer.” He sighed, and bit back his _sorry,_ because he shouldn’t have to apologize, didn’t have to apologize, was _never_ fucking going to apologize, for anything, to Loki.

"Did you reach her?" Loki asked abruptly. His voice still rasped in a way that made Clint want to flinch. "Your wife?" Clint glanced at him sideways. It wasn't like he hadn't known that Loki knew about his family - Loki knew _everything_ about him, and just thinking that made Clint's skin want to crawl off his body. Hearing him say it like that, though, still kicked up some panic instinct that made him want to shove Loki out of the car and drive away. 

"Yeah," he made himself say. "I did." 

Loki just nodded. His eyes closed, and he fell silent again. 

"How long is it going to take you to heal?" Clint asked bluntly. 

"I don't know," he said. "I have never had my neck broken before." There was a dryness to his voice, but it still wobbled slightly, betraying his nonchalance. Clint sighed. 

"You're going to need new clothes," he said. "Yours are a mess."

Loki went a little pale. "I can't...fix that right now." 

Clint blinked, then remembered the footage of Loki seemingly transforming in a few seconds from a bespoke looking suit into alien armor. "Right," he said. "Wasn't thinking you would, anyway. I meant sweats and a t-shirt, something more like that." Loki's eyes slanted in his direction, and Clint sighed. "Yeah, that wouldn't mean anything to you, would it. Don't worry about it. I'll take care of it."

"Thank you," Loki said, though he sounded uncertain. Clint shifted uncomfortably.

"Yeah, whatever," he said. "Don't make me regret this." 

Loki huffed out a quiet breath. "Don't you already?" He said, too tired to be ironic. Clint grit his teeth and didn't answer. Loki closed his eyes, and Clint let him. It was already going to be a long ride; there was no need to make it longer. 

* * *

Either Loki somehow went to sleep or he fell unconscious again, because after about an hour of quiet he jerked up with a gasp of "Thor--!" and then quickly broke off. His hands flew up to the neck brace like he was going to claw it off, his breathing quickening, and Clint reached out to catch him. 

"Stop it," he said sharply. "That's supposed to be there."

Loki took a gasping breath. "Choking me," he said. 

"No," Clint said. "It's not. That's you. Panicking." Loki's breaths only got shorter, and Clint tightened his grip on Loki's wrist, though he wondered if he could even really feel it, and _damn_ if this didn't feel familiar. "Hey. _Hey._ Look at me." 

Loki twisted to stare at him, eyes wide and fuck, _scared,_ and Clint hated this _so goddamn much._

"It's okay," Clint said, trying to sound soothing. "Nobody's dying. You're just - freaking out."

Loki clawed himself back, though it took a while and out of the corner of Clint's eye he looked pale, exhausted, and shaky. _Yeah, he's going to be real helpful,_ a dry part of Clint's brain said, and he grimaced just a little at how callous that was. 

"Better?" He said, eventually. Loki made a strangled sound that might pass for a laugh somewhere, maybe. 

"For a given value." 

That seemed like a fair answer. Clint grimaced. "We got maybe a half an hour to the next town," he said. "I'm going to dump this car there and jack another one. Get you some fresh clothes while we're at it. From there it'll be another couple of hours to the first safe house."

"And then?" Loki asked.

_Jesus fuck. I don't know._ "I'm kind of flying by the seat of my pants, here. If you've got any suggestions, I'm open to ideas."

"What about your compatriots? Shouldn't you be seeking them out?" 

"They're not exactly the easiest to get in touch with right now." Tony. He could probably get Tony, but it was anyone's guess whether he'd actually help or just have Clint arrested. Especially when he heard about Loki. "And getting to them would probably involve a plane, which, can't exactly pull one of those out of my ass."

Loki frowned faintly. At least he seemed more lucid. Paying attention. "Why aren't you in contact with them?" 

"Long story," Clint said flatly, "also none of your business." He grimaced, rubbing the back of his neck and wracking his brain. Loki fell quiet again, and Clint almost regretted snapping at him. He'd probably find out eventually. Was there any real point in holding out? 

Clint's satisfaction at not telling him, mostly. 

Breathing out through his nose, irritated at everyone in this goddamn car (including himself), Clint reached out and turned on the radio, tuning it to the news.

"--mysterious attack on New York," he heard, and immediately sat bolt upright. "The object that appeared over the city appears to be gone, but significant damage remains in the vicinity of Bleecker Street, where the attack seems to have been centered." 

Loki jerked forward, eyes widening. "No," he said breathlessly. "No, already--"

"That him?" Clint asked, jerking his head at the radio. Loki looked like he was going to start hyperventilating again. " _Hey,_ " Clint said sharply. "Focus."

"Yes. It has to be. Or at least - his lackeys. With the Tesseract - the Space Stone...and one of the others is there. In that city." Loki was shivering again, shaking like a leaf, both his hands balled into fists. 

“One of the others? Which one? How do you know?” 

“Magic recognizes magic,” Loki said, and Clint was pretty sure that if he hadn’t been on the verge of losing it, there would have been a lot more snide _you idiot_ in there. He didn’t miss it. “There’s a sorcerer–”

Right, yeah, Loki’d mentioned that. The things you missed when you were stuck on house arrest and out of the loop. “What do _you_ know about - okay, doesn’t matter. Broadcast said that they were gone.”

“Then they have it,” Loki said, his voice weak. “They wouldn’t have left without - achieving their goal. Or dying first.” 

“Shit,” Clint said. “ _Shit._ So that’s - that’s, what, two out of six?” 

“Three,” Loki said. “He had - he had Power, already. I gave him-” his breathing hitched and Clint was ready for him to lose it, but he held it together. “I gave him Space. And now a third - I would guess either Time or Mind–”

“Time,” Clint said, gripping the steering wheel. “It’d have to be Time.” 

A brief silence in which he could just hear Loki’s rasping breathing. “What do you know,” he asked.

“Doesn’t matter,” Clint said flatly, though he didn’t really know why he was holding back. What was Loki going to do with the info _now?_ Maybe just because, fuck, he really needed some kind of proof that he was still in control, here. He expected Loki to argue with him, but he didn’t; Clint supposed that shouldn’t really be a surprise. Loki didn’t seem to have much fight in him right now.

“Okay,” he said. “Okay. So...three out of six. That’s…” That was bad. Really bad. “What about the other two?” 

Loki looked like he wanted to curl up and press himself into the seat. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Cut it the fuck out,” Clint said harshly. “You’re giving _up?_ Where’s the guy who pried himself out of a hole in the floor after getting beat by the Hulk and asked for a drink?” 

Loki closed his eyes. “I know when I’m beaten.” 

“Yeah, well, I don’t,” Clint snapped. “And I’m dragging you along with me, so pull yourself together and _help._ ” He sucked in a breath and went low. “Do you think _Thor_ would be moping around waiting to die?”

Loki sucked in a breath and Clint saw his body seize up and his face tighten and for a second thought, whatever Loki’s shitty condition, he might’ve signed his own death warrant. A moment later he swallowed hard, jaw clenching and then relaxing. 

“Don’t,” he said, voice rough, “bring him up again.” Clint said nothing, waiting, and Loki closed his eyes. “You need to find a way to contact your friends,” he said. “The only way you stand a chance at all is together.” 

“Yeah,” Clint said under his breath. “If only it was that easy.” If he knew how to get in touch with his _friends,_ he would’ve called them the second Loki dropped in the middle of his front yard. 

Shit. Well. He knew where to find at least _one_ person, though Clint wasn’t feeling much like calling him a friendthese days. He was going to have to get another phone. 

Hopefully Tony would actually _listen_ and not just sic some of Ross’s dogs on him. At least it might help that New York had already been hit. He’d know Clint wasn’t making shit up for fun.

God, he wished he was.

“Drink some more orange juice,” he said flatly, fixing his eyes on the road. He could feel Loki eyeing him sidelong. 

But he drank the orange juice. So that was fucking something.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone from a post-Endgame world! Nothing has changed in the world of this fic. We're rolling with what started as an AU and will continue as one, if one with some overlap points from canon. (No, I'm not telling you what they are. It's not particularly important.)
> 
> Not a whole lot of notes to make this chapter, except to thank [the usual suspect](http://ameliarating.tumblr.com) for editing, and all of you for coming along with me on this wild road trip. Worst road trip? Probably in the running, anyway.

Tony wasn’t answering his  _ fucking  _ phone.

There was no way even he had a way of knowing that it was Clint calling, at least at first. Maybe he’d thought it was spam, but he’d left three voicemails so far telling him to  _ pick up his phone  _ and stop being a  _ self-centered fuckwad, or did you miss the attack on New York? _

No answer. He’d have tried Pepper, but he didn’t have her number. 

Clint hung up on his fourth attempt to reach Tony and couldn’t keep himself from shouting “ _ fuck! _ ” at the top of his lungs. The side door of the car was open and he could feel Loki staring at him. Spinning around, he snapped, “what are  _ you  _ looking at?” 

Loki flinched, which just made Clint want to yell at him more. Shake him and say  _ pull yourself together, asshole, you helped make this mess, you’re going to help fix it. I don’t care how freaked out you are.  _

Another worrying part of him kept telling him that he should be helping. Offering some kind of -  _ fuck,  _ comfort. 

He told himself it was only human. Someone was that fucked up, anyone with a heart would want to help.

Didn’t make him feel a whole lot better about it.

“What’s happening,” Loki said. He was tense enough that it looked like he might start shaking. 

“I’m trying to get in touch with Tony,” Clint said. “He’s not picking up.” Loki’s eyebrows furrowed a little and Clint added, “Tony Stark. You threw him out a window.” He scowled. “I can kind of understand the urge at this point. But he’s the only one I know how to reach.”

“Are the others dead?” Loki asked. 

“No,” Clint said automatically, but...he didn’t actually know that, did he? They could be. It was a dangerous world out there, especially for rogue Avengers on the lam. Plenty of people had reasons to want them dead. Some of them might have the means. 

“Then  _ why  _ can’t you reach them?” Loki asked again.

“I just can’t!” Fuck He was going to have to tell him, wasn’t he. “Some stuff happened. The Avengers split up. Half of us went into hiding.”

“Us,” Loki said. “But not you?”

“They offered me a deal,” Clint said, his voice flat. “Security for my family in exchange for house arrest. Since Stark spilled the beans about them...I did what I had to.” Why was he  _ defending  _ himself to Loki? He didn’t need to defend himself at all. 

Except he was, sometimes, a little ashamed. For backing down. He knew why he’d had to do it, but he still hated himself, a little, for not holding his ground. 

Loki didn’t say anything, though, and Clint remembered that he’d made his own deal, worse than accepting a government leash. Loki’s choice might’ve doomed the entire goddamn universe. 

Oh, good. There was the anger. 

“You know,” he said, “I’ve been wondering. You said Thanos sent you here for the Tesseract. Is that true?” 

Loki gave him a dull look. “Why would I lie?” 

“I don’t know,” Clint said. “Maybe trying to pin the blame on someone else? Didn’t want to admit you were happy to sell out to Thanos as long as you got something out of it?” Loki’s jaw tightened and then relaxed. He looked away.

“Does it matter now?”

“Does it?” Clint’s voice was hard. “See, if he sent you here, that means you’ve known about him for years. What he wanted. What he was trying to do. And you still agreed to put one of those things in his hands?”

Loki twitched, his eyes flicking toward Clint and then away. His hands twisted together. “It wasn’t that simple,” he said, and the faint tremor in his voice almost overwhelmed the simmering in Clint’s stomach. Almost.  

“Yeah, okay,” Clint said after a second. “I can believe he’s not the kind of guy it’d’ve been easy to say no to. But tell me this: did you  _ ever  _ think about  _ telling  _ someone about this guy?”

“I did.” Loki was breathing a little too hard, digging his thumb into his palm.

“When,” Clint said ruthlessly. “Because  _ three years ago  _ when I last saw Thor he sure as fuck didn’t say anything about a homicidal space warlord. In fact, he said you were  _ dead. _ ” He knew he should probably stop, but now that he’d gotten going all the pent up frustration and fear and anger and confusion were damn hard to shut back down. “So what that tells me is that you were sitting on this info for at least three years, probably longer considering Thor didn’t come back to give anyone the heads up. Am I right?”

“No one  _ asked, _ ” Loki said. Hissed, really. He’d gone pale and his hands were clenched into fists. “No one ever asked me anything about what happened, or how I survived, or–”

“So you kept your mouth shut about an intergalactic threat because your  _ feelings  _ were hurt?” Clint said. “Nice.  _ Real  _ nice. And now here we are, on the brink of the fucking apocalypse, your own brother–”

He cut off, realizing too late that he’d crossed a line. He tensed, ready for Loki to lash out, but instead he just...crumpled. The brief glimpse of naked expression on his face before he closed off completely made Clint want to wince.  _ Shit. _

“You’re right,” Loki said, his voice hoarse, and Clint thought it was only partly because of his damaged throat. “I should have said something. I should have told him sooner. Maybe he would still be…” He trailed off, eyes open but staring at nothing. 

Clint cleared his throat, suddenly just feeling rotten.  _ Big man, Barton, kicking a guy while he’s down.  _ Never mind that, even like this, Loki was almost certainly still physically capable of killing him at least twice over. Psychologically...that was another thing.

“Doesn’t matter now,” he said. “We need to focus on what we’re gonna do next.”

“I didn’t want to think about it,” Loki said, like he hadn’t heard Clint at all. “About him. I wanted to believe that I’d escaped. Like a child - like a  _ stupid  _ child, I imagined that if I didn’t speak of him he would remain...no more than a nightmare.” He swallowed hard, and winced with it. “I never thought he would be  _ successful. _ ”

Jesus Christ. Clint didn’t want to be the one dealing with this. He wasn’t cut out for it. He wasn’t cut out for fucking  _ any  _ of this. He was an assassin, a marksman,  _ really fucking good  _ with a bow and arrow. 

He wasn’t a therapist. He was barely even a proper hero. 

_ Tough fucking tomatoes. Do you see anyone else, Barton? _

Clint ran his fingers through his hair. “Yeah,” he said tiredly. “I guess if you’d said ‘some guy sent me here so he can use the Tesseract as part of his plan to kill half the universe’ in 2012, we probably wouldn’t’ve believed you anyway.”

Loki let out a ragged sound that might have passed for a laugh somewhere, with someone. He didn’t say anything, though, and his stare forward looked a little thousand-yard.  _ Nice going. Send him spiraling for the sake of venting a little.  _ There were lines of pain around Loki’s mouth.

“How’s your neck,” Clint asked awkwardly, by way of peace offering. 

“Broken,” Loki said. Clint grimaced. 

“Yeah,” he said. “I know. I meant more...is it getting better.”

“Yes.” Loki’s chest was barely moving with his breaths. Clint felt a burst of frustration.

“You’re being real talkative, aren’t you,” he said, and walked around to get in the driver’s seat and start up the car again. Loki twisted toward him, but having that flat, distant gaze actually looking at him wasn’t actually any better. At least he was getting better at remembering not to try turning his head.

“Would you rather I were?” Loki said, and there was something soft and vicious in his voice even with the lingering rasp that made the hair on the back of Clint’s neck all stand on end. “I think not. I am aware that you do not want me here. No doubt you would rather have Thor. That is fine; I would rather you had Thor, too. Don’t think I am not aware of the long and manifold list of my failures. That does not mean I want them enumerated to me by  _ you. _ ”

Well, shit, Clint thought. That was probably the most Loki had said in one go since he’d dropped into Clint’s field like a half-dead meteor. 

What  _ was  _ he supposed to say to that?

“There someone you’d rather have them - ‘enumerated to you’ by?” he said, before his brain completely caught up to his mouth. Loki’s expression somehow flattened further and he twisted back forward, leaning against the seat back with his mouth a flat line and his eyes eerily blank.

“No one living,” he said, and yeah, he’d walked into that one, hadn’t he. 

“Let’s just go,” Clint said. “We might as well head east toward NYC. Unless you’ve got better ideas.” 

Loki said nothing. Neither of them mentioned the possibility that Tony might not just be ignoring his calls. That there was another reason he might not be picking up. If Clint was thinking it, though, Loki had to be too. 

Tony had the suit, but he was as human as Clint was underneath. All it ever took was one little slip at the wrong time and your number came up. 

Clint shoved the rising dread down, compartmentalized it as something to deal with later. Right now he was still a fugitive with an injured and unstable alien in tow. 

There was only so much he could take on at once. 

After about twenty minutes of silence driving down the highway, Clint put on the radio. Skipped past the news in favor of some top forty bullshit. 

Loki didn’t react to his choice of tunes. He looked like he’d spaced out completely, and still, if Clint was honest, only a little better than half dead. He battled down the urge to tell him to drink some juice and focused on the road.

He wasn’t a fucking therapist. Whatever was going on in Loki’s head, he was  _ very  _ far from qualified to deal with it. As long as he kept it together enough to function, they’d be fine. 

As long as they lived through the next few days, anyway.

* * *

There was only so long Clint could drive without a real break. He probably could compensate with coffee, but Loki hadn’t said a word for the last three hours, Clint’s nerves were fried, and the adrenaline that had been powering him this far was starting to crash.

They’d swapped cars in a shopping mall parking lot a ways back, and while Clint wasn’t about to relax, it seemed likely they might have a bit of time still before pursuit started. Hopefully (and shit, if this wasn’t a nasty thing to hope), the crisis in New York would be occupying some of their attention.

So he pulled over in a motel parking lot and turned off the engine. Loki jerked a little, the first sign of real awareness he’d shown recently.

“We’re stopping?” he said. 

“Yeah,” Clint said. “I need to rest. And you probably should too.” He opened the door. “Stay here while I check in, okay?” 

Loki gave him an odd look, somewhere between annoyed and spooked. “Must I?”

“Yeah,” Clint said. “Must you. You look like something the cat dragged in. Stay put. I’ll be right back.” 

He paid for a room in cash, and after considering the money situation grimaced and got a single. He’d sleep on the floor. However much he hated Loki ( _ you don’t _ ) broken necks probably took priority. 

He glanced around to make sure no one was watching before poking his head in the car and tossing Loki the keys. “Room 4,” he said. “Go. I’ll get the stuff.” 

Loki, to Clint’s faint surprise, obeyed without question. Clint pulled his go bag out of the back seat, along with the supplies he’d picked up at the shopping mall where he’d stolen the car, and followed him into the room.

“There’s only one bed,” Loki said. 

“No shit,” Clint said. “I’m not exactly flush with cash. Don’t worry, we’re not sharing.” He set the plastic bag down, dug out the clothes at the bottom, and tossed them on the bed. “You need to change. Also a shower.” Though, Loki looked like he might keel over if he tried to stand too long. “Maybe a bath.”

Loki eyed Clint, and the clothes on the bed, and didn’t move. “What,” Clint said, “do you need someone to show you how to work a faucet?”

Loki stiffened. “Of course not,” he snapped, and snatched the clothes, stalking into the bathroom. Though maybe it looked too unsteady to be a proper stalk. 

The door closed firmly behind him and Clint collapsed onto the bed like a puppet with his strings cut, putting his head in his hands. Without Loki  _ right there  _ he was really, truly feeling the exhaustion he’d been trying to avoid. Still, he listened until he heard the faucet in the bathroom start running before getting up and starting to change. 

Loki was in the bathroom for long enough that Clint started to wonder if he’d passed out in there, and was starting to think about going to check when the door opened. Loki didn’t step out, though, just said, “I need assistance,” voice both flat and strained. 

Clint rubbed his eyes and stood up. “With what?” 

“The shirt,” Loki said after a brief pause. “My arm…” He trailed off, and Clint sighed out, wondering how long Loki’d been in there trying to put on his own shirt with one broken arm. And still wishing he’d found some way to figure it out.

“Yeah,” he said. “Come on. We also need to replace the padding on the brace.” 

After another moment Loki emerged. He did look a bit better with the grime washed off and out of the battered leather, though the lack of shirt did make obvious the fact that the damage he’d taken wasn’t limited to his neck and arm. 

There was also a really,  _ really  _ nasty scar down the middle of his chest, like someone’d done open heart surgery on him and then taped the incision shut rather than using stitches.  _ The fuck,  _ Clint thought, but he pushed that away.

And he looked damn weird in sweatpants.

“You know,” Clint said as Loki approached him slowly, almost warily, “I kind of figured you’d ask for help before hurting yourself trying to do it on your own, but in retrospect that was probably a stupid expectation.” Loki gave him a baleful look that almost made Clint laugh.

“How bad’s the break,” he asked instead, holding out a hand for the shirt - button down, and out of a dumb sense of humor Clint’d gone for plaid. He’d almost hoped Loki would complain about it. 

“I’ve had worse,” Loki said. Clint gave him a hard look.

“You’re standing here with a broken neck,” he said. “I know you’ve  _ had worse.  _ Not what I asked.”

Loki glanced down at it. “Both bones in my forearm,” he said. “It should be...healing better.”

“You’ve got bigger problems,” Clint said. “Okay. Well, since I don’t have a splint–” He’d have to get on that, joy - “I guess we’ll just try to not make this too awful an experience for either of us.”

* * *

It was better than the neck brace, anyway. Loki sweated and clenched his teeth but thank God didn’t scream, and Clint tried not to think too hard about the part where he was dressing Loki, and Loki was pretty clearly trying to ignore the fact that he needed help getting his own goddamn shirt on.

So all in all: fun. But at least at the end of it he was dressed, and had ditched the wrecked armor he’d almost died in. Clint kind of figured that had to be a relief, at least. 

He sat down on the bed and turned on the TV. After a second he switched to the news channel, watching the fly-over footage of New York with a big scar of destruction around Greenwich Village. As far as Clint could tell, none of the reporters knew a goddamn thing. Lot of wild guessing, no real answers.

Loki was standing next to him, cradling his arm to his chest and staring wide-eyed at the footage. Clint shifted uncomfortably. “Look familiar?” he asked, maybe a little unkindly. 

“Not really.” Loki’s shoulders were drawn up and slightly hunched. “It’s the Black Order. I’m certain of it. And if they aren’t dead, then they will have achieved their goal, and brought Thanos the Time Stone.” His voice stuttered a little over the name, Clint noticed, every inch of his body screaming terror.”

_ Maybe Tony was in Malibu,  _ Clint thought. “So that brings him up to what, three?” 

Loki twitched. “Yes.” 

“Great.” Hopefully he hadn’t gotten Vision as well. Made it a twofer.

If that happened they were probably pretty much for sure all screwed. 

He changed the channel over to some procedural, SVU, NCIS, something, they all looked basically the same to him - and turned toward Loki. “Okay,” he said. “So you said that all of these things are accounted for except for one - Soul. That you don’t know where that one is and neither does anyone else.” 

“That I know of,” Loki said. “Nobody that I know of. But somebody will. Somebody  _ must. _ ”

“What’re the odds this guy knows who that ‘somebody’ is, versus that he’s just going to be hunting blind?” 

Loki paused, and then said, “I don’t know. I am not...counting on the latter.” His voice was heavy, and he was staring down again, clutching his arm tighter to his chest, lips white.

“Hey,” Clint said awkwardly. “Ease up. You don’t want to make the break worse.” 

Loki’s eyes slid toward him sideways. He didn’t exactly relax, but he stopped holding onto his arm like it was a security blanket. Fucking...fuck.

He turned on captions and muted the TV. “Try to get some sleep,” he said. “Betting it’ll help.”

The look Loki threw his way was just plain incredulous. “You think I am going to be able to  _ sleep? _ ”

“I think you’re gonna try,” Clint said ruthlessly. “You’re gonna be useless to everyone if you don’t.” 

Loki’s expression suggested that he was thinking  _ I’m going to be useless anyway,  _ and Clint wasn’t sure he disagreed, but he ignored it. Maybe he should’ve picked up some sleeping pills. Not that they probably would’ve worked anyway. He just stared stubbornly back at Loki, who unbelievably enough backed down first and crawled under the covers. He lay there stiffly (like a corpse, and that was a hell of a thought); Clint turned his back and pretended to be watching the show, though his eyelids felt heavy. He needed to clear out his head a little before he tried sleeping.

It didn’t work too well, though. His thoughts kept circling back to Tony not picking up, his friends scattered across the planet, Loki half dead on a motel bed behind him. Less than twenty-four hours and everything in his life had been upended, and now he was on the run with his worst nightmare trying to stop the apocalypse. 

He wished he could call Laura. Or Nat.  _ If wishes were horses,  _ Barney’s voice sneered. Clint turned off the TV and stretched out on the scratchy carpet, piling the spare blankets he’d requested over himself and closing his eyes. 

Hell. Maybe tomorrow this would all look better. Or at least like less of a shitshow than it did right now.

* * *

Loki must’ve fallen asleep at some point, because he woke up screaming.

Clint slammed into consciousness himself reaching for a weapon before he realized what was happening and scrambled to his feet, swearing. He tripped over a bag and stubbed his toe on the corner of the bed before he made it to where he could shake Loki awake, realized what a  _ terrible  _ idea that was, and settled for a loud-but-not-shouted “wake the fuck up, dammit!”

Thank  _ god,  _ it worked. Loki came flailing awake, eyes wide, trying to sit up only to stop with a sharp and quickly cut off noise of pain. Clint groped for the bedside lamp and turned it on. 

“Jesus  _ Christ, _ ” he said, heart pounding. Loki said nothing, panting, breathing getting shorter and shorter and oh  _ great. _ “Loki,” Clint said. “ _ Focus. _ You’re awake, in a shitty motel, with me. Clint Barton. Deep breaths.” 

Somewhere in Clint’s head he registered, again, just how fucking  _ surreal  _ this whole situation was. 

Loki’s eyes rolled toward him but he didn’t quite seem to be seeing him, and he was still just taking those hitching breaths like his throat was swelling closed.

“ _ Deep breaths, _ ” Clint insisted. “Come on. You can do this. You’re not dying. You’re fine. Okay? You’re  _ fine. _ ”

Loki wound down an inch at a time, tension draining out of him until he went limp, and Clint was pretty sure the strain of his breathing now was just pain. He slumped back, wishing the chair was closer. 

“Fuck,” Clint said. “Our neighbors probably thought someone was being-”

Shit. 

Loki’s eyes closed. Even lying down he looked like he wanted to sway. “Didn’t mean to...fall asleep.”

“Not surprised that didn’t work out,” Clint said. He could hear the bite in his own voice and was just glad Loki seemed not to - or maybe was just too preoccupied to care. Either way, good thing. Clint wasn’t actually upset with  _ him. _

Mostly. Not about this, anyway.

Loki twitched, squeezing his eyes closed more tightly. “When is it enough,” he said, barely audible, and Clint didn’t really think it was directed at him. “When does it  _ end? _ ”

Clint’s skin crawled and he said, “not now, asshole.” Loki looked at him like he’d forgotten Clint was there and wasn’t happy to be reminded. “Yeah,” Clint pressed on, doggedly. “I get it. You’re tired. Too damn bad.” 

Loki made a faint, rough noise. “Your sympathy is breathtaking,” he said.

“You don’t want my sympathy.”

Loki didn’t argue that. His eyes moved off Clint to stare somewhere else. Nowhere on Earth, Clint was pretty sure. “Go back to sleep,” he said finally. “I won’t wake you again.” 

“Don’t give me orders,” Clint said automatically. 

“Consider it a suggestion.” The tension had gone out of Loki’s voice, and now he just sounded exhausted, and Clint felt bad again. He grimaced and scrubbed his fingers through his hair. Casting around for something to say, something to do...something. Coming up pretty goddamn empty.

“Don’t strain yourself,” Loki said, and Clint jerked. Loki was looking at him through his eyelashes, expression unreadable. “There is really nothing you can say, and trying appears to be hurting you.”

“You don’t need to be an asshole when I’m trying to be nice,” Clint snapped, stung. “Fine. Whatever. Suit yourself, don’t sleep. We’ll both have a great time when the hallucinations start.” Loki just looked at him, and Clint shook his head. “What the fuck do you want me to do? This isn’t just about you. You’re already shit company and I doubt sleep deprivation’s going to help.”

Loki said nothing. His shoulders hunched slightly, a defensive little move like he was getting ready for Clint to hit him, and if that didn’t make Clint’s stomach clench up in a hard little knot. He exhaled, rubbed his eyes, and said, “this isn’t your first go round.”

It wasn’t a question, and Loki’s eyes flicked back toward him fast. Clint rolled his shoulders back. “You think I forgot? You weren’t sleeping -  _ then,  _ either.”

“There wasn’t exactly a great deal of time.” 

“Yeah,” Clint said. His skin was crawling, but he pressed onward. “But you were exhausted then, too. Running on fumes.” It’d pissed him off, back then. That he wouldn’t take a fucking break to take care of himself. 

Jesus  _ fuck  _ he didn’t want to be thinking about this. Didn’t want to think about Loki fresh out of hell and the desperate relief in his smile when Clint - turned. 

He scrubbed his mouth. “Too bad sleeping pills aren’t an option,” he said flatly. That was the only way he’d slept, the first months after. Loki’s face didn’t so much as twitch. 

“What’s your point,” Loki said finally. Wary, like he expected a trap. 

Good question. “Fuck if I know,” Clint said wearily. “Don’t suppose your magic thing can soundproof a room.” 

“It could,” Loki said after a several second pause, “if I had the strength to spare.” 

“But you’ll get it back,” Clint said, and fuck, Loki actually having his powers would sure as hell be useful, but it also made Clint’s skin feel like crawling off his body. 

“Eventually. Provided I live that long.” 

“Thanks,” Clint said. “Real encouraging.” He rubbed his aching eyes. “I need to get some more sleep. I guess you can always sleep in the car.” He went back over to his spot on the floor. 

“Barton,” Loki said abruptly, and he stopped, tensing. 

“What?” 

“Nothing,” Loki said, after a long pause. “Never mind.” 

Clint almost pushed, but dammit, he didn’t really care what Loki had to say. Or didn’t want to care. It could at least wait until morning; hopefully Loki would hold off any more screaming fits until then. 

_ If it were you you wouldn’t be any better off,  _ said a little voice.

_ Yeah, well, if it were me I wouldn’t even be alive,  _ Clint shot back, and closed his eyes with grim determination to actually get some fucking sleep.

* * *

Early in the morning, just after sunup, they got back on the road. 

“Any better,” Clint asked, gesturing at Loki’s neck.

“Yes,” Loki said. There was still that faint rasp to his voice, but he said, “slowly.”

Clint tapped his fingers against the steering wheel. “Would it usually take this long?” 

“No,” Loki said. “But I haven’t come this close to dying before, either.”

Clint thought of the scar he’d seen again, remembered Thor mentioning briefly that Loki had died (obviously not), thought about asking, and decided against it. “Yeah,” he said. “Okay. Fair enough.” 

“Apologies for the inconvenience,” Loki said. 

“Yeah,” Clint said flatly. “I’d like a refund.” Loki made a noise that fell just short of a laugh, and Clint was briefly pleased, and then was pissed at himself for being pleased. 

The highway they were on wasn’t too crowded, but every time traffic slowed down Clint got tense, half expecting a checkpoint up ahead. He turned on the radio again, but there were no reports of fugitives; the reports about New York had been shunted to the side by another shooting. Clint switched the station back to music and started looking for someplace to get breakfast.

They pulled over at a diner (risking security cameras, but fuck, Clint needed some real food). “Are you up to something solid now,” Clint asked Loki. “Because the fact that you haven’t eaten anything might be part of your healing problem.” 

Loki’s expression remained flat. “I am not hungry.” 

“Too bad,” Clint said. “And not the question I asked.” 

A spark of faint defiance, but it faded quickly and he just stared at Clint, expressionless. 

Shit. Clint didn’t want to have to bully Loki into eating. Let him fucking  _ starve,  _ if he was going to be like this about it. “Fine,” he snapped. “Stay in the car. Your choice.” He got out and slammed the door. 

Clint wolfed down a stack of pancakes and slammed back three cups of coffee. 

On the way out he ordered a fucking yogurt parfait.

“Eat it,” he said to Loki, shoving it in his direction without looking at him. “You owe me. And I paid for it. Don’t make me waste the money.”

Loki’s eyes slanted in his direction. “You are buying me food as part of the debt I owe,” Loki said. 

“No,” Clint said. “You’re  _ doing what I say  _ as part of the  _ debt  _ you owe. That you’re never going to pay off, so as long as you’re stuck with me, that’s how this is going to work. Okay?” 

Loki just stared at him, still blank, and said, “I could leave.” 

“You’re not going to,” Clint said, vicious. “You don’t have anywhere else to fucking  _ go. _ ”

It was a low blow and he knew it. And there was a chance, he knew, that Loki would walk away just to be contrary. But he was pretty sure that whatever Loki thought about Clint, he didn’t want to be on his own. 

He took the parfait, and the spoon. Clint watched him until he started eating it, then said, “ _ thank  _ you,” and started the engine. 

_ You could leave him,  _ whispered a voice - Barney’s - at the back of his head.  _ How much good is he really going to be?  _

Shit. He probably should. Dump Loki by the side of the road like an unwanted litter of kittens. 

He wasn’t going to. 

“Thank you,” Loki said stiffly, after they’d been driving in dead silence for maybe twenty minutes. 

“Yeah,” Clint said. “Whatever.”

* * *

It happened around midday. 

_ It.  _ Clint didn’t know at first what  _ it  _ was, only that the car in front of him suddenly swerved, veering across his lane, and he slammed on the brakes with a shout. Loki lurched forward against the seatbelt Clint had thankfully made him put on and let out a muffled cry at the jolt to his neck. Clint bit back and apology and said instead, “what the fuck!” thinking at first he was being cut off, but the car kept going, drifting across the highway and slamming into the guard rail on the other side. 

And then everything went to hell. 

It was like half the drivers on the road suddenly lost their minds. Clint pulled to the side in a hurry, swearing, only to stare in horror as a semi bore down on them at fifty miles per hour, with no sign of stopping. Loki’s hands came up, abruptly, and the truck hit -  _ something,  _ and crumpled against it like it’d met a steel wall. 

Loki’s hands dropped and he slumped back, panting, curled up around his broken arm. Horns were blaring. There was a five car pile-up to his left. 

“What the fuck,” Clint said again, his voice shaking. “What the  _ fucking fuck- _ ”

Wounded, he thought. There’d be people in those cars. He needed to call emergency services, see if he could do any triage…

He opened the door and stumbled out, going to the nearest car crashed into the guard rail.

There was no one in it. The driver’s seat was empty. Mostly empty, anyway, other than a pile of what looked like ashes.

Clint’s stomach lurched up into his throat. He took three steps back and reached for his phone even as part of him thought  _ this is way beyond 911, Barton _ . 

“He did it,” he heard Loki say, his voice faraway and hoarse. “He did it.”

“What,” Clint said, only it didn’t come out intelligible and he had to try again. “What did…”

“I told you,” Loki said. “Half of all life.” He swayed, looking like he was barely staying upright. “Thanos gathered the Infinity Stones. He brought them together. And he killed half the universe.” 

Clint stared at him. He remembered Loki saying. He remembered thinking  _ shit, that’s insane. _

Somehow he hadn’t really managed to think what it would look like if he succeeded. 

Because somehow, he hadn’t really believed that he  _ would. _

Half of all life. Half the people on Earth. Gone. 

Clint dialed, numbly, thinking  _ please please please pick up pick up. _

The phone rang. And rang. And rang. 

“Laura,” he said, when it got to voicemail. “Laura, call me back. Call me back right now.” 

He hung up. A car alarm was blaring. Clint could see a few people crawling out of the wreckage, knew he should be helping, should be doing something, but he just stared at Loki, clutching his phone and willing it to ring. And Loki looked back at him, expression bleak. Like he’d expected nothing more than this, all along. 

_ Welcome to hell,  _ Clint thought his expression said.  _ I’ve been waiting for you to join me. _  
  



End file.
